


Journey to the Middle of Nowhere, part 2

by Buntheridon



Series: Two Sides to Every Tale [5]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Darkmoon Faire, Drustvar, F/M, Flirting, Horde War Campaign, Masturbation, Picking up rockstars, Pining, Sister talk, Voice Kink, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, getting more serious now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23083939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Relationships: Blood elf & Void elf (sisters), Nathanos Blightcaller/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Sig Nicious (Warcraft)
Series: Two Sides to Every Tale [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1647757
Comments: 8
Kudos: 10
Collections: (A high regard for Nathanos)





	Journey to the Middle of Nowhere, part 2

_So, I retired to my cabin conflicted emotions and thoughts racing through my head. Yes, you are right, dear sister, I had started to feel more than just a fancy for a quick trip to the underworld if you know what I mean. I couldn’t sleep at all._

Lying on her cot in the darkness of the moonless night even the swaying of the ship doesn’t help Shalaen to rest. Her lust for the Ranger Lord has only grown and maybe the danger of it, the possible forbidden nature of the liaison if it ever came to pass, pours fuel to her flames. But she cannot cross the Warchief’s will or step into her territory. Sure, if the miracle happened and Nathanos somehow accepted her advances then it would be on him and he would either have permission or was free to do as he wished in the first place.

She drifts into a sleepy half-conscious state, where an image of the disgruntled bearded face haunts her, red eyes scanning her naked form through the transparent nightgown, smirking gleefully at her state. Her core burns and throbs imagining herself bound somehow, be it by spells, ropes or a simple command. He would slide his cold fingers – ungloved for her pleasure – lightly over her neck, between her breasts, over her stomach –

A whimper escapes her lips as her hips buckle. She slides her hand under her loosely bound sleeping garment, down between her thighs finding herself slick and swollen and oh, so achingly sensitive.

_“You shouldn’t play with things way out of your comprehension, champion.”_

Shalaen shrieks in surprise, her other hand slapping over her mouth reflexively to silence her. Since when is her imagination _this_ vivid? But no, in the complete pitch black darkness of the cabin she sees two red orbs glowing where she thinks the door is. Her heart and her vagina both lurch in synch. He sure picked the perfect moment to visit. Did he hear her before he spoke? The thought arouses her deliciously. She attempts to sit up.

“Don’t move”, the deep husky voice commands and she finds herself obeying. Her heartbeat fast in her throat she tries to calm it by controlling her breathing but it helps only little. If he is here, if this isn’t a dream, then it means he’s far more interested than she thought him even capable of.

Or maybe he has a kind-hearted moment and he’s here purely to let her know she’s been nearing dangerous grounds. Either way – she _matters_ now.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know. And we’re not that different. We’ve met, if briefly, when you were still a–”

“Stop right there. Yes, I remember you. But don’t ever talk about my past again. Is that understood?”

“Yes… sire”, she whispers, unable to help herself with the teasing honorific. She hears him grunt softly, his body imitating the reactions of the living incredibly well. Usually a surprise or a sudden sting of arousal would travel through the gut to the heart that would require more air to pump some more blush onto the cheeks of the person in question. This is happening to the warlock, and it almost sounds like the Forsaken might experience something similar as well. Maybe the Shadow filling their lungs or veins – or however undeath after resurrection is arranged – has a sort of life of its own. He keeps his voice low and she loves the scrapy quality of it, the aggression right there, just under the surface.

“You keep taunting me like you thought I was one of your toy boys.” 

How the heck does he know about her string of lovers? Or is it just a random assumption about the life of a sin’dorei?

“Yet here you are”, she dares. There’s a moment of silence, her heartbeat deafening in her ears. Oh, he must hear it so clearly. Her fingers are still resting on her clit and she nudges them just a wee bit, biting her lip so she wouldn’t make a sound. Her climax waits three strokes away, throbbing, ready to soar. She doesn’t have the courage to release it while he’s standing right there even though very little has been as tempting in ages.

“No-one can ever replace her. Quench your morbid curiosity, hero. I’m not even alive.” He’s gone so silently she’s not sure if the door opened but it must have.

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


“By the Titans! You got to him!” Loreina cheers.

“Ugh, I still don’t know. First it was just this fun thing but... You’re right. This _is_ dangerous.”

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


They reach the docks of Dazar’alor the same time the sun peeks over the horizon. Honoring his apparent wishes Shalaen only bows to the Dark Ranger Lord and walks out of the ship quietly. His eyebrow raise does leave her with a small hope of something yet to happen between them. Maybe he needs to go ask for permission or something.

A passing mage hands her a flyer when she’s about to head straight for the nearest drinking establishment. Darkmoon Faire is on this week. She feels like celebrating, or maybe drowning her thirst in the merriment and silly games. The mage offers a direct teleportation to the elusive, magical Darkmoon Island and she takes it. If the hubbub won’t silence her growing need, if the enchanted drinks prove to be useless, then she needs to find a convenient cock, again. What better place for that than a carnival? Literally, as it happens.

Riding her Felsteed under the welcome arch she briefly thinks how the eye that stares up there reminds her of the Old Gods, somehow. _Right, let’s go with a bang._ She walks straight into a cannon. A cute gnome lady lights the fuse and it shoots her over the whole circus site, over the fire breathers and the carousel, over the tamed magical animals and the concert stage, dropping her into the sea.

There is a band playing at the stage, she observes.

Shalaen marches to the concert area, to the front row. Well, it’s not a row, really. This early there aren’t many people in the audience. A few troll men, a tauren guy dancing and three humans of which one is a female. Not much competition if she happens to find what she’s looking for and he is into the ladies, which she is quite certain is the case. She has seen the Elite Tauren Chieftains several times hanging out in Silvermoon, signing naked body parts and blowing kisses off their balcony. One of them in particular has always caught her eye but she didn’t happen to be in need of company so desperately as to go and proposition a musician. 

Now she is.

Sig Nicious, the second guitarist, a sin’dorei like her is playing his golden axe-shaped guitar as pompously and theatrically as one expects in events like these. The band has a huge following and their late night concerts are packed full, but the mornings at the carnival are more like open rehearsals. 

Shalaen positions herself in front of the golden-haired guitarist, watching him spin his instrument around and do all sorts of tricks while still playing flawlessly. _I guess that’s counted as a skill if you’re neither a fighter nor a crafter,_ she grins. The guy is absorbed in his performance until the undead lead guitarist starts his solo and the rest of the band stop playing. 

Their eyes meet. She has experienced this part many times with him, flirted some but never continued it further. Sig clearly remembers her, a smug smile spreading on his handsome face. He sticks out his tongue playfully and starts using his guitar as the phallic symbol that it is. He places the instrument between his legs and nudges his hips forward a couple of times, watching her with a grin. Shalaen rolls her eyes and laughs, the corniness of it all overwhelmingly ridiculous but who the heck cares, she needs a lay. 

  
  
  


****

  
  
  


_“You didn’t!”_ Her sister shrieks.

“Yep, sure did. Sorry ‘bout that, Lore.”

“Anar’alah! You terrible, glorious badass. You knew I fancied him!” But she’s grinning.

“That was ages ago. Didn’t you ever have him?”

“Ah, you know how I was with the concept of honor back then. I blame the humans. Good playtime totally wasted, I say.”

“Truth, sis.”


End file.
